


Halcyon Days

by ShadowRealm



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: A Little Less Sixteen Candles A Little More "Touch Me" (Video), Alternate Universe - A Little Less Sixteen Candles (Music Video), Alternate Universe - No Band, M/M, Mentions of Blood, graphic depictions of injuries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-10 12:32:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4391972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowRealm/pseuds/ShadowRealm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete is bitten, turned, and kicked out of his house. Stranded and alone, he feels no need to live. He falls to the ground, ears ringing and heart pounding as he screams to the hunter <i> "Kill me, please, kill me." </i> Vampire hunters are meant to hunt vampires, not take them in and train them, but then again...the Young Bloods have never really followed the status quo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for www.http://idontcare.co.vu So, shoutout to Sarah (she's pretty rad)! Also, I have no beta, so all mistakes (I can guarantee there will be some) are my own!

It was cold. That was the first thing he remembered.

Shifting around on the cold, cold ground, Pete Wentz was aware of everything.

From the pieces of gravel, that dug into his skin, to the sounds of the rain beating down on the rooftops and then pittering down to the earth below. From the sound of a car rushing by, two blocks away, to the booming clap of thunder from up above.

But, what he was mostly aware of was the pulsing, throbbing, unbearable pain in his neck. He was aware of the hot, sticky blood oozing down his neck, pooling softly below him, sticking to his clothing. He was aware of the feeling of his own skin stitching itself back up, skin growing back when it shouldn’t be. He was aware of the feeling of his mouth feeling more full than usual. He ran his tongue over his teeth, his eyes flew open and chest heaved when he felt that his canine teeth had elongated.

He was a smart man, and it really didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. The bite mark on his neck, the long teeth, he had heard about them, hell, he had seen them, but it never occurred to him that he would become one. Vampire.

He shakily stood up, he could feel the wound beginning to close, he looked around, trying to tune out the life of the city, rushing through his ears and clogging his mind with overwhelming scents and sounds.

It took him a moment, but he slowly became aware of how much blood there was. All

over his t-shirt and hoodie, all over his neck and dripping down his chest, a large pool where he once was, all over his mouth and face. He wasn’t sure how much of it was his, he could only pray that he hadn’t attacked anyone.

His shaky legs held fast and he managed to walk down the road, in hopes of finding a road sign to find out where he was. He looked around, thankful for the one good thing about being a vampire. His new enhanced eyesight meant he could see through the dark, but it also meant that any show of light burned against him. He hadn’t learned how to temper it, everything was running wild. His teeth were out, his eyes narrowed to slits, his nose picking up every-goddamn-thing, it was horrifying and made him want to claw his own mind apart.

He turned the corner, thankful for the dark cloak of night that concealed him from the occasional person passing by.

He knew where he should go: home. He just hoped that his roommates would help him learn how to control it.

He spotted a road name: Jefferson Street. He silently thanked any gods out there for helping him in this way. Jefferson Street was only a few blocks away from his apartment, which he shared with four other people.

He picked up the pace, his throbbing headache slowing to a dull reminder. He had took a long time learning how to settle his features: by taking deep breaths and controlling his heartrate he found that he could rein in his newly acquired features. His pupils widened, his teeth shrunk back. His mind remained crowded with the scents and emotions of others.

He could feel it bubbling under the surface of his skin, he could feel the straight hunger. He could feel it pulling at him, begging him, whenever he passed someone on the street.

He was close to his home now, but the insatiable hunger for blood was increasing with every step.

It wasn’t like a hunger he was used to, this wasn’t one that grew from his stomach, no, this one clawed at his chest, teeth snapping as it bayed and howled for blood. It took the form of a beast, relentless and unable to see anything but red.

The hunger grew louder and louder, leaving his ears ringing and his mind reeling.

His head snapped up when he caught a familiar scent, something he never thought he would do. He had smelled it before, of course it was never quite as...sharp as this. It was one of his roommates perfume, Lacy, it was faint but there, stuck on the corner of a road, near a bus-stop.

He moved faster, his apartment building in sight. He fumbled around in his jacket pocket for his keys, cursing softly under his breath when he found none. He quickly searched for the number 210, so that way he could ask one of his housemates to let him in.

“‘lo?” Someone asked, voice gruff and heavy with sleep.

“Jack? Jack, it’s Pete, please, let me in.” Pete said, out of breath. The static from the  

speaker was getting on his nerves and unbearable anger built up, he bit his lip to keep from lashing out and breaking the speaker.

“P-Pete?” Jack said, sounding alarmed.

Pete heard the door buzzing open and he rushed forward, grabbing the handle and pulling the door open swiftly. He rushed in, not bothering to take the elevator to the fourth floor, opting instead to run up the stairs. He found himself with increased stamina, only tiring once he reached the fourth landing.

The building was filled with the sounds of heartbeats, blood rushing, people breathing, it was overwhelming. It took everything he had within him to not rip open someone’s door and cure his hunger.

He walked down the hallway, knocking sharply on his door. He could hear heartbeats behind the door, five of them. It meant that all of his roommates were awake.

He took a deep breath before someone opened the door.

“Pete? Where the fuck have you been?” Someone asked.

He groaned softly and stumbled in. He surveyed the room, his eyes washing over the faces of everybody. He took a moment to breath in what they smelled like, trying to focus on that and not the sounds of blood rushing through their veins, dying to be ripped open and—

He shook his head.

“I was attacked and…“ He rubbed his temples, “I-I can’t remember.” He finished. His eyes were wide when he realized this, in his memory a large gap of time was missing.

“P-Pete, is that blood?” Teresa yelped. She ducked behind Jack, who took a wary step back.

“A-a vampire attacked me, th-they bit me,” Pete stuttered out. “Guys, please, I need help. I don’t know how to control it.” He warned them, begging for help all the same.

“They turned you?” Lacy said, fear edging into her voice. She and Tara joined Jack and Teresa towards the back of the room.

Pete looked towards Matt, the only one who hadn’t stepped back, the only one who hadn’t looked afraid.

“Please, I can learn to control it, I need your help.” He took a step forward, allowing the door to swing shut behind him. He tried not to wince when the door slammed shut, failing.

“You can’t control it, no one can. You’re a vampire—a monster!” Tara shouted, stepping out from behind Lacy. “You will kill someone, every single time you feed. That’s what all newly-turned vampires do.” She said, placing one hand on her hip.

“No, I can’t kill anyone, there’s got to be a way around it.” Pete said, his voice shaking. There was no way he could kill someone to survive, he just couldn’t.

“You can and you will, you’re one of them now.” Jack jumped in. “Matt, he listens to you, tell him.” Jack told him.

Matt had been Pete’s friend since Middle School. He locked eyes with Pete, his gaze cold and hard.

“Matt, please, I can’t do this on my own. I need you.” Pete pleaded.

“I need you out.” Matt responded. “Get out. You’re dangerous, you’re a killer.” He added. His voice remained even, but Pete could hear his heartbeat jackrabbiting. It hurt him to know that his best-friend—ex-friend, he thought—was afraid of him, but it hurt even more to know that he wouldn’t help him.

He could feel a mixture of anger and sadness building up in his chest. The hunger he had been feeling for the past several hours had dimmed to a slow, dull reminder at the back of his mind, in place of it anger burned.

His control was slipping, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from attacking his friends if he didn’t reel it in, didn’t manage to tamper the undeniable urge to kill.

If his control was a rope then he was struggling to remain holding on to it, some other force was pulling on the other end in a vicious game of tug-of-war. His mind burned and the rope slipped some more.

He felt his teeth elongating. He panted, his mouth dropping open. He ran his tongue over his teeth, finding that only four teeth on the top part of his jaw had elongated.

Better for biting and feeding off of people, his mind helpfully supplied.

The rope slipped even more.

His eyes narrowed to slits, his vision enhancing. His heartbeat pounded in his ears when he looked up at the people in front of him.

They were all shouting, he only caught fragments of their words.

“Get out!”

“You monster!”

“Grab him.”

The rope was out of his grasp.

He shot his head up, his mouth opened to release in an ear-splitting roar that filled the room and reverberated throughout everyone’s chests.

Matt and Jack who had stepped forward to grab him shrunk back.

Pete stepped forward, he couldn’t see anything except prey. The animalistic side of him was taking over and it was hungry for blood. He could barely recognize the people in front of him, only saw them as weak creature ready for his picking.

He lunged out at Jack who had darted forward, attempting to knock him down.

The rope was still in sight, he was not completely gone.

He hadn’t realized that he was on top of somebody until he heard Lacy screaming “Pete, stop! Stop!”

He focused his vision and found himself staring down into the fear filled eyes of Matt. He panted over him. He felt what little control he had slip and he shoved his face into the bottom right-hand side of Matt’s neck. He could hear his blood pumping, tempting him. He opened his mouth and brought it down to Matt’s skin. His teeth broke the skin, small droplets of blood dripped out. He washed his tongue over them, taking a moment to revel in the taste. He needed more.

The sounds of Matt’s heavy breathing brought him back a little, just enough for him to hear the sounds of Jack groaning and the girls crying. His eyes darted to the side and he saw Jack unconscious to right of him. He could guess that he had done that.

More blood hit his nose and his attention was brought back to Matt, who lay on the floor, his struggles slowing down, but his whimpers continued.

His anger was nearly gone, the hunger taking its place. He needed more blood, he craved it. He brought his mouth back down, his teeth taking the same place as before.

He bit down sharply. He knew that you were only turned if a vampire bit you and then fed you their blood, the two combined it what sealed the deal, without one or the other you just had a bloodied victim.

He heard Matt scream and suddenly the memories of how he was turned rushed back. He removed his mouth from Matt’s neck in a sudden movement. His control was regained and he was harshly aware of everything he had done.

Pete ran a hand through his disheveled hair, trying to ignore the sharp scent of blood in the air and the way it called to him. He brushed his hair out of his eyes and rushed to the kitchen, grabbing a hand towel and bringing it back to the living room where he had attacked Matt.

He pressed it up against Matt’s wound.

Matt whimpered and tried to move away from Pete, but had lost too much blood.

Pete took Matt’s hand and pushed it against the towel, getting him to apply pressure to it.

“Call 911.” He told the girls. His speech was slurred by the fangs in his mouth and the blood that dripped down them.

Tara who was the only one not crying took out her phone and called 911, she was smart enough not to tell the operator that she knew who attacked her friend.

Pete, shaken up, turned around and rushed out of the apartment. He ran down the stairs, jumping over the railing on the last flight of stairs, ignoring the sickening crunch of bones before they healed.

He shoved open the door, running down the sidewalk with inhuman speed. The night's events replayed over and over in his mind, the way the blood tasted in his mouth a filthy reminder.

He slowed to a halt only when he had run for more than a mile. He panted and leaned against the wall of a building.

His hands pulled at his thick hair when he couldn’t retract his fangs. His fists pounded at the wall, the bricks cracking with the force of each blow.

He was broken out of his reverie when he heard footsteps accompanied by hearts beating wildly with fear.

He turned around, not sure what to expect.

The footsteps froze when he moved. In the darkness he saw three figures, armed with large gun-like objects and machetes, stakes pinned to their belts.

Hunters, he thought.

The vigilantes of the city that would track down and kill vampires. They had proved useful and were often mentioned on the news. Of course, there were other small groups of hunters that did the same thing they did, but The Young Bloods were of the most successful in their hunts, almost always saving the would-be victim.

They can stop me, they can stop me before I hurt anyone, Pete thought. He knew that if a simple argument could get him to attack his closest friends, then he had no clue what he would do if he got into a real fight.

Pete rushed forward, onto the street.

“P-please, I need your help.” He called out, his words slurring as he attempted to learn to talk with fangs.

The group froze as they stepped out of the shadows, clearly confused by his behavior.

“I need your help, please,” Pete gasped, slowing down before he got too close to them.

The shortest one stepped forward, bringing his gun down. He clearly seemed unnerved, like he thought this was all some big plan to get them to get their guards down so he could kill them.

The other two kept their guns trained on him, staring him down.

“With what?” The one who stepped forward asked, not getting too close to him.

“I need you to kill me, please, before I hurt anyone,” else, he kept himself from saying the last part. He took a step toward the man, falling to his knees. He lowered his head repeating the words kill me over and over again like a mantra.

The other two people walked to where the first one was. They whispered quietly to each other and Pete tuned them out.

His fingernails dug into his arms, the pain reminding him that parts of him were still human, he wasn’t all monster.

“Patrick, no.” The tallest one said, crossing his arms and staring pointedly at the one called Patrick.

“He could help us.” Patrick reasoned, staring right back at the other one. “Joe, look, he could be useful. It would be good to have one on our side.”

“Andy, tell me you’re not considering this. He’s a vampire, we kill things like him.” Joe said, turning to face the one with the long hair and glasses.

Pete shifted on his knees, just wanting it all to end. He knew that he would kill people if they didn’t kill him. He didn’t want to live like that, as a vampire, he didn’t want to be forced to the shadows, to be ridiculed and feared.

“Okay, fine! Just know I’m not happy about this.” Joe said after he and the other two had conversed. “Hey, vampire.” Joe shouted, resuming his defensive position next to his friends.

Pete looked up, he couldn’t handle it. His senses were going into overdrive, the smell of the blood on himself, the smell of holy water, the sounds of heartbeats. He could see, smell, and hear everything.

“Look, we’re not going to kill you.” Patrick said.

“What? No, please, you have to. I can’t do this.” Pete pleaded. He figured if worst came to worst he could always kill himself, find a stake and a lonely corner.

“We can help you.” Andy offered, standing closely to Joe.

“We want to help you learn control, learn to fight, you’ll be one of the good guys.” Patrick told him, holstering his gun.

“I’m a monster, I’ll kill you all, don’t you get that? The moment I was bitten I was destined to become a killer.” Pete shouted, his anger rising. He thought these guys were supposed to be the smartest and most cunning of them all, the best at what they did, they weren’t supposed to want to help a vampire.

“Destiny is bullshit. You don’t have to do anything, but, we want to help you. We want you to be able to help us, help the city. Can you imagine how many more people we would save with you on our team? Look, we need you, you need us, it’s a win-win situation.” Patrick said, crossing his arms as he looked down at the man before him.

Pete lowered his head, taking a moment to steady his breathing and his heartrate. He felt his fangs retracting, a strange sliding sensation that he knew would take a while to get used to. His vision stopped focusing so much on the smallest of all details and went back to only slightly enhanced, as did his hearing.

He looked back up at Patrick, finding a hand outstretched to help him to his feet. He wrapped his fingers around Patrick’s wrist, feeling the soft thump-thump of a heartbeat. He pulled himself to his feet, not yet releasing Patrick’s wrist, but instead calming himself down the feeling of life.

Pete released Patrick’s wrist and instead took his hand, shaking it softly.

“I’m Pete.”

“Patrick.”

“I’m Joe,” Joe said, peeking over the shoulder of Patrick with a grin on his face.

“And you’re Andy,” Pete said as he let Patrick’s hand go, he missed the warmth that it had brought, but didn’t comment on it. It was one of the things that Pete had found was different since he had been turned, he was constantly cold.

Andy nodded at his comment, smiling softly.

“We should head back before someone catches us out here.” Andy advised, looking over his shoulder warily.

Patrick and Joe nodded sharply, turning around and walking back down the way they had come.

Pete sighed heavily and focused on keeping in control for the remainder of the time until he got back to their hangout. He knew that if they were helping him then it would get easier, but he didn’t want to have to wait. He didn’t want to spend parts of his day thinking about ripping out people’s throats, he just wanted to be normal again.

But, you were never normal, his conscious couldn’t help but remind him. It was this whole self-deprecating thing he had picked up in 2004, right around when he started getting into a really bad place.

He knew that if he kept thinking like this, that if he kept up hating himself then one day it would take over him and he just wouldn’t care.

He slowed his walking down, taking a moment to dig his fingernails into his palms in an attempt to calm himself.

In a split second he turned and punched a wall, the pain bringing him back in control. Like an anchor. Pain anchored him and kept him in control, at least now he knew what to do if he spiraled too far.

“Pete?” Patrick called, having stopped walking and turned once he had heard him punch the wall. “Hey, wait here.” He told Joe and Andy as he walked back down the darkened alleyway.

“I’ll be okay.” Pete said gruffly, trying to pass this...episode off. He felt a hand grab onto his shoulder, it was a comforting gesture but Pete still stiffened at the contact.

“Have you fed?” Patrick asked him, removing his hand.

“I started—I-I attacked my roommate, I stopped before I hurt him too badly.” Pete confessed. He leaned against the wall, sliding down so he was sitting. The ground was cold and wet from the rain from earlier, but he didn’t care.

“Joe, Andy, you guys can head home. We’ll meet up later.” Patrick shouted down the alley. Joe raised an eyebrow but didn’t object. Andy nodded and turned around, nudging Joe along with him.

“W-What are you doing?” Pete asked, leaning forward to look around Patrick to watch the other guys walk down the road. Patrick huffed softly and sat down next to Pete, bringing his knees up close to his chest and resting his arms on them.

“Let’s talk. Who are you, Pete?” Patrick asked, turning his head to look at Pete.

“What do you mean?” He responded.

“Tell me about yourself.” Patrick told him.

Pete leaned his head back against the wall, looking up at the stars. The first lights of the morning were beginning to show. He sighed.

“My name is Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz The Third—” He stopped talking when he heard Patrick giggle softly under his breath. He gently shoved Patrick’s shoulder, trying not to smile.

“Sorry, go on.” Patrick said, his laughter falling quiet.

“I’m twenty six years old, I live—I lived with my five roommates for, like, three years. Tried to start up a band with two of them, didn’t get very far. I was turned sometime in the last day, at roughly about 8:00 PM? . . . By, uh, one of the Dandies.” Pete trailed off, the memories of that particular event coming back to mind.

“If you don’t mind, but, uh, how were you turned?” Patrick asked.

Pete focused on Patrick’s heartbeat which had picked up at the mention of Pete being turned.

“I had gone out to a bar, for a drink, my friends knew I would be gone for a while, which is probably why they didn’t look for me.

“I was walking outside the bar, down the back alley at around 7:00, uh, and as I made my way toward some of the back roads I was jumped by two or three people, I can’t remember. I just remember that one sent the others off and focused on me.

“It was horrible…” Pete trailed off, he could feel himself growing more and more angry for not being able to defend himself and for being so weak. He felt Patrick’s hand on his knee. He slowly reached his hand down to grab Patrick’s wrist, seeking comfort in the rhythmic beating of his heart.

He relived the memories, speaking out loud, while staying in control…

 

_The sounds of the bar soon faded to a muffled beating, the bass line of whatever song they were playing reverberating throughout the ground._

_Pete walked down the alley, thinking about calling one of his roommates to come get him since he really didn’t feel like walking all the way back home. He decided against it since most everyone he lived with was probably getting ready to go to bed or was out doing something._

_He heard footsteps echo down the road. He turned around, hoping to find that it was merely his imagination acting up: it was. He shook his head and continued walking down. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched, that there was someone behind him just waiting to jump out and grab him._

_He turned around again._

_Finding no one once again he kept walking, passing off the paranoia to having too much to drink back at the bar._

_Laughter echoed through his ears, he spun around finding himself face-to-face with a mouthful of fangs._

_He yelped and turned around hoping to find a way out and to run, but was met with two other vampires, grinning wildly as they both pushed his shoulders, knocking him onto his back._

_The air rushed out of his lungs and he had scrapes on his hands. He turned sideways, pinning himself up against the wall so that way he could see all of the vampires at once. He attempted to stand back up, but a vampire darted at him and pushed him back down._

_They wore hats and dressed in suits, but the one who seemed to radiate dominance wore a long cape and held a cane in his hand._

_He whispered something under his breath and sent the other two vampires off._

_“You’ll have to forgive Brendon and Spencer, they’re—hmm…what would you call them? Oh, for lack of a better word: new.” The vampire said, an air of arrogance to his words._

_“And you’re different?” Pete said, his voice shaky and his heart beating out of control._

_“Of course I’m different, I’m the leader. My, my, little human, you really should know more about the things that haunt you in the dark, perhaps if you had you wouldn’t be here right now.” The man said, his lips spread in a wide smile, revealing his fangs._

_“I did do my research, I just wasn’t expecting to see a parasite like you in this part of town.” Pete growled, not willing to be bullied and beat down by a monster like him._

_The leader darted forward, picking Pete up and throwing him against the wall, his hand pressed up against his throat. He moved his mouth in close, licking a long strip up Pete’s neck. He pulled back and smiled once again. He locked eyes with Pete._

_“I’ll have you know, human, that I am William Beckett, leader of the Dandies, and I would kill you if I didn’t need you.” William spoke smoothly, his voice steady._

_“W-Why do you need me?” Pete asked, his voice hoarse. He pulled at William’s wrist but his hand wasn’t going anywhere. He wasn’t pushing so hard on Pete’s neck that he couldn’t breathe, but it was still uncomfortable and he knew that he would have a nasty bruise there later._

_“Because…once you’re one of us you will be unstoppable. You have more potential than I’ve seen in a while. I’m not sure what about you says this, but it’s strong. You have more power than Brendon and Spencer have combined, and I need you on my side. We could rule Chicago with you standing by the Dandies._

_“Hunters would fear us, other vampires would tremble at the mere mention of our name and I just can’t pass that opportunity up.” William smiled once again. “I can only hope you survive this.”_

_Before Pete had the chance to even ask what William meant he lunged forward, opening his mouth wide and digging his fangs into Pete’s neck._

_Pete shouted, pain radiating throughout his neck. He pushed at William, trying to get him away, but only succeeding in having his fangs go deeper into his neck and tear away at more skin._

_Blood poured down his neck, onto his chest, and pooled at the space beneath him. He felt faint and knew he wouldn’t last long, he was going to die, he just knew it._

_William removed his fangs from Pete’s neck, instead placing them on his own wrist and biting down._

_“Stay with me, Pete,” William commanded as he moved his wrist up to Pete’s mouth, forcing him to swallow some of his blood._

_Pete coughed and tried to spit back up the blood, but it had already gotten into his system. He slid down the wall, agonizing pain blossoming in his neck. It hurt so much that he just wished he would die, he wished that it would all just stop._

_“I’ll be back, Pete. We’ll be unstoppable.” William said. He leaned down to Pete, crouching above him. “I have faith in you.” He pressed a soft kiss to his head._

_Pete tried his hardest to move away from him, but he was in too much pain to do more than groan._

_“I’ll be back.”_

 

Pete sighed softly, his hand subconsciously reaching up to touch his neck. He kept expecting to find a gaping wound there, blood pouring out of it, but he never found any evidence that the last night’s event had actually happened, that is until he let most of his vampire features out.

“We won’t let him get you.” Patrick promised. He stood up and offered his hand once again to help Pete up.

“Ever since I woke up, I’ve been feeling this attraction, sort-of like a calling to him. I hadn’t known what it was until I remembered how I was turned. I can’t help but think, that if I can...sense where he is, why can’t he sense where I am?” Pete asked, his words more rhetorical than anything else. He wasn’t really sure he wanted an answer.

“We won’t let him get you.” Patrick repeated, sounding more sure of himself this time. He took a step back when he helped Pete up.

Pete sighed and nodded.

“Okay.” Pete patted the shorter man on the shoulder, smiling at him softly. “We should get back with the others.” Patrick nodded and took lead, leading him back through the alleyways and roads.

“We’re about a mile away.” Patrick told him, looking over his shoulder.

Pete nodded and kept an eye out, tuning his ear for sounds that shouldn’t be there.

“Patrick…” Pete said softly, reaching a hand out to touch his arm as he stopped. He lowered his head and tried to listen for the sound he had just heard.

“Yeah?” Patrick asked, turning around and stopping. “Pete…” Patrick prompted when he got no response.

“Shh…” Pete commanded, closing his eyes and trying to focus on just the sound he had heard earlier. He inhaled sharply when he heard what sounding like a footstep. His head shot up when he caught the scent of blood and anger.

He turned around quickly, attempting to figure out where they were. He identified the different sounds and found that there was more than one of them.

“Vampires.” Pete warned. Patrick’s body stiffened and he looked around. “Four of them.” Pete added. He let his fangs drop, allowing some of his control to go with them. If it was four against two then there was no way they would make it out.

With a roar two of the vampires jumped out of an alleyway that branched off of the road.

Pete and Patrick turned around, only to twist around once again when two more vampires jumped out behind them.

Pete roared and stepped in front of Patrick. He quickly recognized the gang that the vampires were from: the Punks. Out of the four different groups these were of the ones that most enjoyed creating mayhem.

Patrick shifted his stance and took out a stake. He stared down the two vampires that had taken interest in him, slowly creeping toward him, fangs bared and eyes narrowed. This wasn’t a hunt for survival, this was a hunt for the thrill of the kill.

Pete opened his mouth and let more of his control slip. He was not going to let these monsters hurt him or his newfound friend. He snarled and took a step forward, he knew that the only way he would be able to win this fight would be to fight with sheer brutality and force rather than cunning and forming a plan. He was new to the game, but that doesn’t mean he was at a loss.

Patrick tossed him a stake, knowing that it was one of the only ways to kill a vampire.

One vampire leapt forward, a smile on her pale, pale face. She aimed for Pete, her eyes were wild and crazed.

Once one vampire started the others joined in. It was a frenzy. Two went after Pete while the others attacked Patrick.

Pete could tell that Patrick was struggling against the vampires that were atop him. He roared and let his control fully slip.

He pushed one of the vampires to the ground, forcing his head into the ground. He took a moment to smile at the sickening crunch of bones that rang throughout the alley. He dug his teeth into his neck, he figured that if he couldn’t feed on humans why couldn’t he feed on vampires.

With one jerky movement he tore through the vampire’s skin, ripping out his throat. He took the stake that Patrick had tossed him and dug it into the vampire’s heart.

He coughed before falling limp, blood pouring out of his neck and chest.

Pete turned to the other vampire who had taken a few steps back, seeming afraid of him now that she had seen what he was willing to do.

Feeling enraged and stronger he darted forward, pushing her up against the wall. He tilted her head up, smiling as he watched fear fill her eyes before thrusting upward and killing her with the same stake from before.

He turned around, ripping the stake out of her chest, and spotted Patrick cornered against the vampires that had went after him. The vampires were covered in blood and Pete could only hope it was their own.

He growled low in his throat, the sound rumbling across the alley and catching the other’s attention.

One vampire, dressed in mostly black with light colored hair, turned her attention from Patrick to Pete. She whispered something to the other which resulted in him pushing Patrick up against the wall, one hand on his throat.

She took a look down at the two dead vampires that lay near his feet. She snarled and waved her hands in a swift motion that was clearly meant to initiate the fight.

Pete brushed his hair back and adjusted his shirt. He threw the stake to the ground. He knew that he could win this fight, if he didn’t Patrick would die.

His lips drew back in a snarl and he slowly crept forward. His eyes flashed to Patrick who stood watching, held back only by the other vampire.

“What do you want with us?” Pete asked, his brow furrowed and eyes narrowed.

“William wants something with you, which means so do we.” She responded. “We can’t have him having you, you’re too important to him.”

“So, you’d rather kill me then let him have me?” He asked. He still didn’t know what William thought was so special about him, maybe this would be how he found out.

“With you joining his gang he will obliterate the rest of us!” She yelled before throwing herself at Pete, knocking him on his back.

The air was thrown out of him. He heard the sound of wood against cement, the stake. He struggled against her as she bared her teeth and went for his throat. His hands flared by his sides while he attempted to find the stake, that would be the only way he would survive this.

He felt her teeth dig into his neck, ripping and tearing like her life depended on it. His yell of pain was halted when her hand made its way to his mouth, forcing it closed. Her nails dug into his cheeks. She removed her mouth from his neck and stared into his eyes.

“Pete!” Patrick shouted, struggling against the man.

Pete kicked his legs up and tried to throw her off of him, but she pushed him back down. The weight of her was too much for him to overpower, especially in his weakened state.

His eyes darted to the side and he finally spotted the stake. He attempted to inch toward it as it was too far out of reach.

The woman followed his gaze and caught was he was thinking. She smirked and leaned off of him a little, her hand still grabbing his face.

While she was leaning to the side, and while her center of balance was thrown off, Pete bucked his hips up. He rolled to the side, tossing her off of him. He landed on top of her, closer to the stake. He reached out and grabbed it, swiftly moving back to impale her with it.

“Wait!” She screeched, her hands splayed open near her face. “Wait, please, wait.” She begged. Pete stopped his movement.

“What?” Pete demanded, bring his face in close to hers.

“If you kill me…” She waited a moment, a slow smile creeping onto her face, “then he”—She nodded jerkily at Patrick and the other vampire—”will kill him.” The other vampire assured her words by pushing Patrick up against the wall harder and bringing his fangs close to his neck.

Pete pushed himself away from her, he still stay atop her, weighing her down. He took a moment, rolling the stake in his hand. He closed his eyes and thought. He had too many options and not enough time, too many things to consider and too many lives at risk.

“Let me go and your friend will—” Her words were cut short by Pete darting forward and throwing the stake into her chest. He jumped off of her, letting her body lay there.

He turned around to look at Patrick who he had essentially just killed by killing the other vampire.

The one holding a very scared and betrayed feeling Patrick turned to glare at Pete.

Pete saw Patrick close his eyes and wait for the feeling of fangs at his neck. He took a split second to drop every ounce of control he ever possessed.

Very calmly he raised a hand, feeling a dark burning inside his chest. He knew that vampires had the power to use what was basically mind-control on humans, a way they kept their victim from screaming or making a scene, but they typically couldn’t use it on other vampires.

He walked towards the vampires who had opened his mouth and was leaning in to bite Patrick. He imagined the vampire under his control and put all of his belief into that one thought. He looked down at the ground and when he looked back up at the vampire he had stopped moving. His eyes were glazed over and his mouth hung limply. He was completely enthralled under Pete’s power.

He was vaguely aware of Patrick gasping and his heart rate increasing. He took his mind off of Patrick and back to the vampire. He raised his hand and with a slow movement brought the creature off of Patrick. He walked him towards himself, the deep burning in his chest had become stronger and was filling his entire body. His anger towards this one person adding fuel to the fire.

He could see Patrick moving away from the wall. He recognized the vampire in front of him as prey, every drop of control had been dropped, he could only wonder why he wasn’t going after Patrick, too. He snarled and picked up the vampire by his neck. He could hear his heart beating slowly, like he had no clue he was about to be killed.

He knew he could snap his neck and stab him with the stake right then and there, but the appeal of his blood was too strong.

“Pete…” Patrick said, sensing his allure towards his victim’s blood. “Pete,” he repeated, “Pete, feed off of him.”

Pete didn’t have to be told twice. He dropped the man and lunged onto him, his teeth digging into his neck. He ripped out skin before attaching his mouth and drawing more and more blood out.

The vampire didn’t do anything, too far until Pete’s control to even think a thought of his own.

He could feel the hunger that raged like a wildfire before slowly beginning to climb down, turning into a low, low warmth.

When he finally pulled away from the man he was almost completely drained. He looked up at Patrick who tossed him a stake. He inhaled sharply and pushed it into the man’s chest. He then released him from his control and stood up, off of him.

He reined back his control and wiped his mouth on his shirt. He looked back down at the vampire. He was shocked to find that he had drank so much blood. He was astonished to think that if he had fed on a human he would have killed them. He took a moment to remember the taste of Matt’s blood and how different it was to the vampire’s. He could only think that perhaps he fed so much off of the vampire because it was different blood, maybe he would feed less off of a human. He didn’t want to test his theory.

“We—we should, uh, we should get back to the others.” Pete said through gasps. He panted and took a moment to catch his breath, something he probably should have done more when he was feeding.

“Uh, yeah,” Patrick said as he rubbed absentmindedly at his throat. He dug around in his pocket, searching for his phone. “Fuck…” He cursed softly, running a hand through his hair. He inhaled sharply through his nose as he looked down at the cracked screen of his phone.

“We should hurry back—we don’t want the others to worry.” Pete said. He ran his thumb over his hand, picking at the dried blood. He started to rub at it harder.

Patrick walked past him, stopping for a moment to look back at the carnage.

“Why won’t it come off…” Pete said softly, barely a whisper. “Why won’t it come off?” He asked again, this time his voice a little louder. He rubbed his hand harder, the skin was raw and irritated. He thought he heard his name being called, but he was too concerned with getting all of the blood off. “I just want it to come off!” He went to rub harder at his skin, but he found Patrick standing close to him.

“Pete! Stop!” Patrick warned.

Pete’s head shot up, his eyes wide. He stared at Patrick who grabbed his hands in his own and moved them away from each other.

“Let’s go home,” was all he said. He dropped Pete’s hands and slowly walked away from him, making sure he was following him before walking faster.

The rest of the walk home was a blur to Pete. The actions of the previous hour replaying over and over again in his mind. He couldn’t fathom that he had killed four people.

They were bad people, he couldn’t help but think, hell, they weren’t even people; they were monsters. As soon as Pete finished that thought another was brought to mind: if they deserved to die then why didn’t he?

“Pete?” Patrick asked, breaking Pete out of his thoughts. “We’re here.”

Pete forced a small grin and looked over the building, blocking out his previous thoughts.

The hideout was a large, abandoned industrial building.

He followed Patrick inside, closing the door behind him. . . 


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm like a month late with this... sorry. I'm trying to make the chapters about the same length, so it's taking me longer than it should (and I love to procrastinate... so.... there's that). 
> 
> Warnings for: graphic depictions of violence, injuries. Also, there's an offhand comment about sex, so, like, be careful, if any of that is triggering or upsetting. 
> 
> I do not own the characters in this story (I think that's called slavery...) nor do I intend to claim them as my own. No copyright infringement intended. And, as always, all mistakes are mine and mine alone, I don't have a beta (I do have a friend who reads it, but doesn't really edit, so s/o to them <33) 
> 
> Please enjoy!

A few days had passed since Pete had met the Young Bloods, and ever since then he had been looked upon like just another monster. He could only guess this was why they were trying to lock him into a room, “ _Just until you learn control!_ ” Patrick had said, trying to convince him to agree to it.

“It’s for your own—”  Patrick started.

“And others!” Joe cut in.

“Yes, and other’s protection.” He finished. He ran a hand over his face, trying to wipe the remaining evidence of his lack of sleep from it.

“I’m not going to hurt anyone!” Pete yelled, his anger rising.

“Tell that to your roommates.” Joe deadpanned. His eyes narrowed, his arms crossed, and he spread his feet. Everything about him screamed: defensive.

Pete turned on him, his lips drawn back as he snarled; low and guttural.

“C’mon, what are you gonna do? Bite my neck, cry a little, and then run off? Do it, I dare you.” Joe opened his arms, taunting. He lips spread wide in a smile.

Pete stepped forward, shifting his weight. He hadn’t fed since that first time, with Patrick. His bloodlust was burning beneath his skin, aching and begging to be satiated. He was trying his hardest to not give into the satisfaction of tasting that sweet, metallic liquid.

His gums burned when his fangs dropped down. He ran his tongue over them, pricking his tongue as he attempted to remain in control.

He hadn’t realized he had taken more steps toward Joe until he felt a hand on his chest, pushing him back into the wall. He felt a low rumble build up in his chest, coming out as a growl.

“ _Pete!_ ” Patrick shouted, forcing him back in control.

He blinked rapidly, taking a moment to remember who everyone was and what he was doing here. He took another moment to scold himself for letting Joe get to him like that. He would never learn control if he let every little taunt creep under his skin.

He looked over Patrick’s shoulder to watch Andy talk to Joe, whispering reminders like “ _Do not taunt a fucking vampire,_ ” and  “ _He could and may kill you_ ”. He watched the anger fade from Joe’s face as he came to the realization that while Pete may be helping them, he was still partially their enemy.

Joe put his arms around Andy’s chest as he pulled him into a hug, saying he was sorry.

“—ete! Are you even listening to me?” Patrick shouted, pushing him harder against the wall. “Okay, look, you can’t lose control like that.” He started, stopping for a moment when he noticed Pete’s eyes. “I get that you’re hungry,” _but don’t you even think of feeding on me_ , he said, leaving part of it to his thoughts. “Awhile ago, I, uh, I started developing this…mix. It’s easier if I just show you.” He said, struggling to get his words out coherently.

Pete nodded.

Patrick stepped away from him, removing his hand. He let out a soft sigh, Pete wasn’t sure if it was of relief or exasperation.

Pete lowered his head and hunched in his shoulders when he passed Joe and Andy. He felt a wave of air come toward him when Joe moved forward, his mouth open as the words died in his throat.  

He walked into the kitchen, stepping carefully over broken pots and pans that lay scattered across the floor.

“So, what is this concoction that you’ve been brewing?” Pete asked, walking toward the island in the center of the room. A blender, seemingly random ingredients, and stains were strewn across it.

“I haven’t really had a chance to test it, uh, so I’m not sure how this’ll go…” Patrick admitted. He took the blender and poured some of the mixture into a large cup.

Pete felt his blood run cold, but he trusted Patrick, well as much as a vampire could trust a hunter. He nodded anyway, pushing his fears to the side. He reached his hand out for the cup, ignoring the small smile Patrick gave him.

“What’s in it?” He asked. He brought his nose close to it, immediately recoiling at something in it.

“Uh, there’s holy water in it. I figured that maybe it would help a vampire suppress that part inside of them. If there’s too much in there then just, uh, don’t drink it. It’s a work in progress.”

Pete nodded and brought the cup up to his lips. He swallowed the liquid. The holy water burned at his throat and he set the cup down, grabbing onto the edge of the island for support. He gasped and coughed, trying to get the rest of it down.

He could feel his teeth elongate as the holy water and… _something else_ worked against him. His eyes narrowed and briefly flashed yellow. He could feel the water and something mixing together, a battle of something that satiated the hunger inside him, but also burned and scraped at him from the inside, begging to get out.

“W-What else did you put in this?” Pete managed to cough out as the mixture began to settle in him.

“Uh, garlic, the holy water, uh…” Patrick grabbed a small book and began flipping through the pages.

“No! No, it’s something else. I think it’s helping…” Pete shouted, he could feel his control coming back. Whatever had decreased his hunger was helping him focus more on control, rather than the undeniable urge to _feed_. That was it… “Blood—Patrick, there’s blood in this. What—whose blood is in this?”  

“Blood? I, uh, I don’t remem— _oh_. Mine, it’s my blood. I cut myself while I was chopping something yesterday. It must have gotten in somehow. Why? Is it making it worse?” Patrick asked, his voice nearing frantic. He took a step back.

“No, it’s—it’s helping. I have more control.” Pete confessed. He closed his eyes and steadied his breathing. He matched his breathing with Patrick’s using him as an anchor. He dug his nails into his palms, feeling a steady drip of blood flow from them. He used the pain to bring him back to humanity. If for some reason Patrick couldn’t help him then at least he had pain to anchor him, keep him tied down.

“Patrick? Everything okay?” Andy called.

Pete heard his footsteps as he approached the kitchen, Joe right behind him.

“Y-Yeah, we’re fine. Just testing out the blend I’ve been working out.” Patrick called back, the fear radiating off of him beginning to diminish.

Pete opened his eyes to find Patrick glaring at someone behind him and mouthing words to them. He released the island from his grip and turned back to Patrick.

“The blend works, don’t know how you got it first shot, but it works. Just, for next time, less holy water.” Pete said, eyeing the glass full of that red liquid once again. He could feel the blood calling out to him, he could smell it. He walked toward it, figuring he may as well finish it.

“Pete, hey, no, you don’t have to.” Patrick warned, taking a step closer.

“If it’s going to help me stay in control, then I’m going to try it.” Pete growled. He picked up the blender and brought it close to his lips. He inhaled sharply, steadying himself. He tipped the blender cup back.

He could feel his skin burning at the touch of holy water, but he powered through it. Some of the blend dripped over the rim of the cup and onto the ground. He finished off the blend and set the cup on the island.

He was dizzy, too dizzy. He latched back onto the island for support. He lowered his head and groaned, his eyes clenched tightly together. He could hear Patrick calling out to him, his voice loud and clear. . . above the rest.

He struggled and pushed Patrick away from his thoughts, trying his hardest to focus in on the other voices.

He opened his eyes to find that his world was no longer the same. A different one was overlapping it, opaque and blurry. He squinted and prayed for it to come into focus.

Someone walked into his view, whispering to someone else. He turned around trying to find that other person, but all he saw was Patrick waving to him, his eyes wide and full of concern.

“Gabriel, _no_.” The person said, leaning forward. “We _need_ him, and if that means we have to kill a few hunters to get to him, then so be it.”

Wait, no, Pete recognized that voice, but, it can’t be, can it?

“You have no clue what they’ll do to us if we don’t have something stronger.” William said.

Suddenly, the whole vision became clearer, like Pete was standing in that room instead of the kitchen with the Young Bloods.

He turned around, desperate to find a way out, but instead found him staring into the face of who must be Gabriel.

“And what if we cannot get to him? Hmm? What then? Would we just sit here and wait to be killed? We can’t depend on him! You’ve seen him since you’ve turned him, yes?” Gabriel said, his voice growing louder and louder. He paused as William nodded. “Then you’ve seen how out of control he is!”

“The Young Bloods, they’ve taken him in, they’ve developed this blend that gives him control.” William said, his tone grew hushed.

“Does it work?” Gabriel inquired.

“I’ve not seen, yet.” William admitted. “They’re helping him learn control, don’t you get how great this could be for us? We get them to train him, get him to learn control, then he joins our side and we defeat them.”

“What happens when he grows attached to them? You saw how he reacted to their leader! What’s his name? Patrick?” Gabriel earned a nod from William. “Bilvy, this could be our downfall.”

William paused and walked over to a chair. He slowly sat down in it and motioned to another chair in front of him. “Or perhaps, our uprising.” He sighed heavily. “Gabe, you trust my judgement, just as I trust yours, so, please, trust me on this.” He held out his hand.

Gabe walked toward William and gently grabbed his hand, he squeezed it and whispered softly, “okay”, before leaving the room.

The vision ended abruptly, leaving Pete reeling. He collapsed to the floor. He felt hands once gripped around his shoulders flinch back before darting forward, meeting him on the ground.

“Pete? Fuck. . .” Patrick whispered, kneeling over him. “Pete, c’mon, wake up, please.” His shoulders were shook and that urged him to groan. “Pete? Oh, thank god.”

“Patrick, I’m fine, I’m okay.” Pete muttered. He groaned once more and ran his hands over his eyes. He was absolutely exhausted, but he sat up. He winced at the movement, a mind-shattering headache swiftly moving in.

“Pete, what the hell just happened?” Patrick asked, his voice raised an inch or two higher with concern. He looked down on him, his eyes still filled with concern.

“S-Something in that blend, it, uh, triggered something in me, the, uh, the vampire bit of me. It was like a vision? But, not really, more like a look through someone else’s eyes.” Pete attempted to explain. “It was of William and Gabriel…of the Dandies.” Pete said, looking to Patrick’s face for an ounce of recognition.

“I know who William is, I’ve had my fair share of encounters with him, but…Gabe?” Patrick said, absentmindedly rubbing at his hip.

Pete nodded pointedly at Patrick’s movements.

“Oh, sorry, it’s nothing.” Patrick said, his movements leaving him abashed.

Pete nodded at him, tucking his thoughts away for now before continuing. “Uh, Gabe is his second-in-command, but, he seems more, like, uh, romantically involved with him.” Pete said with a sigh. “But, I suppose that’s a good thing, I mean, if we’re to attack him we’ve gotta go for his weak spots, and well, Gabe is one of his weak spots.” Pete said. He pushed off of the floor and leaned up against the wall, rubbing at his temples.

“Attack him? What? Since when was that the plan?” Patrick asked, peering at Pete from farther away.

“Patrick, this was always the plan. We go after and kill him and the rest of the dandies.” Pete scowled, his eyes narrowing.

“Pete, this has always been _your_ plan. We can’t rush in blindly, it’s going to take time to formulate a plan, and even then, we won’t win this fight.” Patrick said, returning the glare.

“We can be stronger than them, I just need to learn control.” Pete retorted, trying to contain a low growl.

“Exactly. You have no control. You don’t understand what it means to go up against the Dandies.” Patrick’s voice was veering on shouting.

“You’re right, but I do understand what it takes, and what it doesn’t take is a bunch of ramshackle hunters too weak to do anything but run vampires out of town.” Pete said, letting the growl build up, low in his chest.

“We’ve done more for this city than anyone else has. Chicago needs us! If it wasn’t for us you likely would’ve died long ago. This town would be overrun with vampires. It’s already hard enough with boneheads like you trying to run up and take control, even when they have none!” Patrick shouted, standing up, looking down on him.

“That’s only because you hunters think you’re oh-so _tough_ , when really you’re just weaklings scared to be alone in the dark. You band together so that way you can pretend that you’re strong, you can pretend that you have an inkling of say in this world, when really, what can you do, but yell and fight and kick and punch your way out of situations you have no control over!” Pete joined Patrick in standing up.

“Pete, you’ve been in one fight! _One_. The only other time you’ve tried to fight someone you ended up nearly killing your roommates. If you try to go up against the Dandies you’ll only end up bloody, beaten, and alone. While you’re staying with us, you go by our rule, and right now the rule is: you listen to us, not the first thought that comes running into your thick skull. You got it?” Patrick took a step forward.

Pete snarled and went to meet him in moving forward, but instead brought his arm back and then his fist into Patrick’s cheek. The small sparks of pain that blossomed along his knuckles and fingers accompanied by the sharp yelp that rang through the room brought him back. He immediately regretted his decisions and made a move to make up for it.

“ _Shit_ , ‘Trick, man, I’m _sorry_.” Pete said, moving forward to help him stand steady.

Patrick stood still for a moment, his hand resting on his cheek.

Pete heard movement from behind him and turned around.

A very pissed-off looking Joe stormed into the room, shoving past Pete as he rushed toward Patrick, who was still glaring at Pete.

Andy followed slowly after, taking Pete by the shoulder and half-dragging-half-leading him out of the room.

“Go for a walk. Clear your head. _Go_.” He commanded and pushed Pete toward the door.

Pete turned around, casting a longing look at Patrick before opening the door and leaving into the darkness of night. He mentally punished himself for being so foolish and letting his temper get to him like that, especially when Patrick was involved.

He turned the corner around the building. He just kept walking, hoping he would get lost, something he had always enjoyed. Maybe, if he could manage to hold onto what last scrap of humanity he apparently had he could learn how to control himself.

He tossed his hair out of his eyes and turned up his hoodie, keeping his head down low, but senses on high-alert.

He briefly considered turning around and running back to Patrick, apologizing, but if Andy was upset with him than he was probably more safe out in the streets. He could only hope that with the anger and regret radiating off of him no one would even dare think about attacking him. He could only hope.

He took this time to stew over the new information he had on William and the Dandies, and what they planned on doing with him.

He rubbed angrily at his temples, trying to rid himself of the fierce headache that had sprung up.

He slowed to a halt in the middle of a road, taking a glance at a small coffee shop that was open. He shuffled his options briefly in his mind and decided to walk over to it.

There was one person inside, a young barista with wild hair. He was slumped over the counter, resting his head on his hands while his eyes closed shut.

A small bell rung when Pete entered the store and the man jerked up, fear filling his face before he remembered what he was doing and where he was.

“H-Hey, you’re Pete Wentz!” The man shouted, his eyes wide with fear as he stumbled backwards, his hand slamming into the wall as he tried to walk back into the kitchen behind the counter. He scrambled for the phone hung on the wall, knocking it out of its holder, but managing to grab it.

“Wha—Wait-wait-wait, how do you know me?” Pete asked, his heart thumping wildly. He was positive he’d never seen this guy before.

The guy didn’t say anything, but instead punched numbers into the phone, his hands shaking.

“Mikey!” He shouted back to the kitchen, dragging out the vowels, “Frank!” he added, doing the same.

A pan clattered to the ground from the back room and voices started speaking, growing louder as the came to the front of the building. Their faces were confused at first, but when they saw Pete their mouths dropped and grew pale.

The one with the wild hair, colored a brilliant red, hesitantly raised the phone to his ear, hands still shaking.

“Wait, please, wait,” Pete asked, taking a step forward, stopping his actions when everyone flinched. “How do you know me?” He asked again, determined to find an answer.

Red Hair Guy, as Pete had appropriately coined him, brought the phone, tilting his head to the side slightly, his eyes wide with confusion.

“Man, you’re all over the news. You’ve got a big ‘ole bounty on your head. The Dandies want you.” Red Hair Guy said, his voice joining his hands in shaking.

Pete scowled, he knew the Dandies held power over this city, he never knew it was this much. He sighed inwardly, taking a moment.

“How much—How much are they offering?” He asked. He was overall done with the Dandies, he just wish he knew how he could give them what they wanted, without dying or surrendering obviously.

“Uh, $10,000…” The one with thin-framed glasses on piped up. He brushed his hair back and stared curiously at Pete.

“We were told to call a number, said _they_ would come pick you up.” The other one said. Pete took a moment to assess all of them. Red Hair Guy and Glasses smell like adrenalin and fear, those two scents overpowering any others, but the last one smelled...off.

It took him a moment, but he connected it with his own scent; he was a vampire.

He shifted his stance, more wary now. If the vamp’ hadn’t attacked him earlier he probably wouldn’t attack him now.

“I should at least know the names of the people turning me in to a gang of killers…?” Pete said, hoping to win them over, to get them to not turn him in. He couldn’t end things with the Young Bloods on a bad note.

Red Hair Guy spoke first, uttering a soft “Gerard” before Glasses joined in with “Mikey” and then the vampire who by default was “Frank”.

“Are you still gonna call them?” Pete asked, looking to the three of them, searching for an ounce of compassion in their faces.

“I, uh, already did. I let the line ring.” Gerard confessed, his eyes growing wider.

“The operator let the Dandies know where you were, she could hear your voice.” Frank said, having been listening in on the one-sided conversation on the phone.

Pete cursed himself for not hearing it.

“Well, call them back! Let them know it wasn’t me! Tell them it was a mistake!” Pete shouted, his fear levels rising. He couldn’t let himself be taken, he couldn’t.

“We’ll be killed by the Dandies if they show up and we don’t have you! Don’t you get that? It’s too late. You have to go with them.” Frank shouted. Gerard had shrunk back, too afraid to do more than hide before the vampire.

“Besides, you’re wanted alive, so, that’s got to be good, right?” Mikey offered, squaring his jaw and setting his shoulders. If Pete weren’t a vampire he wouldn’t have guessed that he was afraid, but every single scent coming off of him screamed: fear.

“I can’t leave them behind, I made a promise…” Pete said, mostly to himself. He turned around, his hand up against the door.

“Pete, we can’t let you leave.” Frank said, sounding disappointed that it had come to this.

“Fuck off, they’ll follow my scent, you’ll be fine.” Pete spat walking out the door.

“Pete, if you take one more step out that door I will rip the bones out of your legs, and you definitely won’t be leaving.”  Frank promised, stepping out and around the counter.

“Like hell you will.” Pete scowled, his eyes narrowed as he walked out of the building, turning onto the open roads.

He heard a brief huff of indignation before he felt air rushing at him. He turned around just in time to find Frank jumping and knocking him onto his back, teeth bared and in his face.

“I won’t let them hurt my family.” Frank growled, low.

“So, fight back!” Pete gasped out, the air knocked out of them.

“One vampire against thirty? You’re insane. It’s a wonder Beckett wants you.” Frank snarled, keeping one hand on Pete’s chest as he readjusted himself over Pete so he was more comfortable.

“No offense, but, the last time I was in that position,” a voice called out, suave and enchanting, “I had a dick in my ass… Isn’t that right, darling?”

“Of course,” another voice responded.

Together, they walked out of the shadows, shoulders touching and teeth bared.

Pete leaned up against Frank, his own teeth dropped. He glared at the Dandies approaching them. He recognized one of them.

“Long time no see, Brendon, who’s your girlfriend?” He smiled endearingly at them, sarcasm lacing every breath he inhaled.

The other vampire growled sharply and lunged forward, held back by Brendon.

“Whoa there, Brendon, you need to get a leash for your… _pet_.” Pete added much to the anger of Frank who pushed down on him.      

“I’d much rather get a muzzle for that mouth of yours.” The other vampire retorted, slowly stalking forward.

Brendon joined him in walking forward, softly muttering “Ryan…”

Ryan slowed to a halt, turning to glance at Brendon before kneeling down next to Frank and Pete. He glanced up at Frank, staring at him expectantly.

“Why are you still here? Go; before I rip your vocal chords out while your boyfriend watches…” He smiled cruelly at him, waving a hand as he ran off of Pete and back into the shop, joining Gerard and Mikey.

Ryan glanced back down at Pete, the smile still on his face. He pat his chest and stood back up. He held a hand out, all evidence of malice toward him or Frank now gone. He smiled at him, this time seeming genuine, but Pete didn’t trust him, he did however accept his hand. Ryan pulled him to his feet, his fingers gripping what seemed like too tightly around Pete’s wrist, but he couldn’t be sure.

“What are you going to do to me?” Pete asks, he tries to get a scent off of the other men but nothing comes off. That both concerned him and made him more curious. Something without a scent was something he was intrigued with. Perhaps it was a Dandy thing, something you could learn.

“Nothing,” Brendon says, stepping away from the building which he had been leaning on. Pete had forgotten all about him. “But, we are going to let you know that with this bounty on your head and the vamp’s we have planted around town, you are never out of our sight. So…watch out.” Brendon smiled at him. He squeezed the back of Pete's neck before grabbing Ryan’s hand and walking back into the shadows.

“We’ll be seeing you soon, Peter…” They called out in unison, leaving Pete on the ground in the middle of the road in the dead of night.

He leaned back down, laying on the cold ground. He closed his eyes and steadied his breathing.  He opened his eyes and stared up into the sky, the light of the coffee shop near him filtering through.

He waited a moment longer and then stood up, took a glance back at the shop, gave a small wave to the people inside, and then walked back the way he came.

He looked over his shoulder hundreds of times while he walked back to the hideout of the Young Bloods. Once he made it there he hesitated outside the door, wondering how he would apologize to Patrick for one, and tell them all about the Dandies and what they were doing.

He opened the door, rubbing absentmindedly at the place where he was bitten, a bad habit he had picked up.

The lights were off in the training room, but a light was on in the hallway, so he didn’t have to focus too much to see. He heard footsteps and then saw Joe walk into the doorway. Pete walked toward him, an apology on his lips.

“Pete, where di—Is that blood?” His eyes widened as Pete walked closer.

Pete cocked his head to the side. He hadn’t thought he had any blood on him. He hadn’t attacked anyone, and no one had attacked him.

“On your neck.” Joe confirmed, bringing him closer to the light. Pete chuffed softly, not believing him. How could he have gotten blood on him?

Joe scoffed and brought him into the bathroom, gesturing at the mirror.

Pete looked carefully at his neck and spotted a long stream of, now dried, blood. He glanced at it curiously. He didn't remember getting injured in any way. Perhaps, Frank had scratched him. He felt around the back of his neck, searching for any healed cuts. He felt a small sliver of skin, fresh blood coating it, now drying.

"I have no clue how that got here." Pete admitted, removing his hand. He rubbed his hands on his pants.

He looked around the bathroom for a towel, hoping to clean up his neck, but he found none.

He turned around, going to ask Joe where they kept the towels, but he wasn't there.

He ducked out of the bathroom, hoping to catch him in the hallway. He groaned softly when he found it empty.

He quietly crept out of the room, following Joe's scent. The hideout was abnormally quiet. He heard heavy breathing coming from the training room, one of the smaller ones toward the back.

The breathing slowed when he stepped into the hallway leading to the room. He tried to keep his footsteps quiet, but the floor was old and creaked whenever he moved on it.

A quick heartbeat from behind him had him turning around, going to defend himself. He gasped softly, regaining his composure, when he found Joe grinning at him.

"Joe? What are you doing?" Pete gasped out. Joe said nothing but darted forward, kicking out Pete's legs. He fell to the ground, the air knocked out of his chest.

"You want to learn to fight?" Joe demanded, kneeling over Pete, who nodded in response. "Good. Then you're gonna learn by fighting against someone who doesn't want to kill you." Joe grinned at him again.

Pete growled. He brought his legs close to his chest, ducking one to the side as he turned his body. Joe, on instinct, moved back. Pete slid backward, shakily getting to his feet.

Joe nodded at him from the floor. He stood up, walking toward Pete, who stepped backward in an attempt to get away from him.

Pete might be the vampire here, but he was still at the disadvantage. Joe had been doing this for God knows how long, he had the proper training and knowledge, the advantage.

“Don’t you think there’s a better way to do this?” Pete asked, bumping into the doorway as he backed into the training room.

“You want to sit down and get taught how to fight? You want me to hold your hand and tell you it’ll be okay? That you’ll learn with time, _don’t worry._ ” Joe demanded, getting close to Pete. His eyes held a mischievous glint that Pete didn’t like. At all.

“You already don’t like me…if you try and fight me you’ll end up killing me, or you’ll at least try to.”  Pete said. His feet shakily stepped back. He didn’t want to fight Joe, he wanted him to like him, especially if they were going to be fighting _together_ sometimes.

“I told you you were going to be fighting against someone who doesn’t want to kill you, but I never said it was going to be me.” Joe smirked. He stopped moving toward him.

A door opened and Patrick walked out. He glanced at Pete briefly before focusing his attention behind him.

Pete heard heavy breathing and then felt a large weight on his shoulders. He fell to the ground, twisting while in the air so he landed on his back.

The sharp, pungent scent of _vampire_ filled his nose and clouded his other senses.

The vampire pushed down on his shoulders, roaring in his face. Pete snapped to attention, taking in detail of the vampire’s face before realizing—

“ _Frank?_ ” Pete demanded, pushing at his chest, trying to get him off him.

“Long time no see…” Frank commented, smirking. He brought his fist back and then in at Pete’s face.

Pete’s head snapped to the side and he gasped softly. He heard a soft wince from someone behind him. His head jerked to the side again and again while Frank continued punching him. He felt a slow trickle of blood leak out of his nose and the cuts on his cheek.

“Fight back!” Frank shouted, pulling his chest off the ground and then slamming it back on the ground, timing it with a loud roar.  

Pete brought one of his shoulders under his body, rolling to the side. He waited while Frank readjusted his weight, still trying to pin him down, and then kicked out and knocked Frank to the side, almost the same thing he had done to Joe.

He stumbled to his feet, his arms waving wildly as he tried to steady himself, reeling from the dizziness. Vampires could heal, but apparently not very quickly. He shook his head, trying to ignore how much it pounded.

“He’s here to teach you how to fight.” Joe called out, moving to the wall, leaning against it casually.

“The enemy isn’t going to give you time to regain your composure. So, get ready, we’re going to fight. No mercy. You fight me until you get me in a position where you could kill me, I’ll do the same, _do not_ actually kill me.” Frank said, a lilt to his voice. This was a game to him. “Just for tonight, I want to see how you fight. No preparations, no training, nothing. I’m not going to teach you anything you already know.

“As a vampire, your reactions are quicker, your movements: more fluid. Everything about you is enhanced.” Frank said, squaring his shoulders and spreading his feet.

“I know all this,” Pete said. “I’ve had experience with fighting before.”

“Yes, I’m aware. Patrick filled me in on the way over here.” Frank said. “Now, typically? I would ask you to let everything go, just go all out when fighting the enemy, but…since you seem to have a little problem with _control_ , you need to keep some of that. Especially, when you’re fighting against me…”  Frank said. He rolled his neck, cracking it. He took a moment, gently popping his knuckles.  

Pete narrowed his eyes and began slowly circling him.

Frank rushed forward, pushing on Pete’s right shoulder before ducking around to the left, pushing on his back.

Pete stumbled forward, managing to stay on his feet. He growled quietly, making sure to keep his anger low and his control constant.

“Come on, Wentz,” Frank taunted, slowly circling around him. “You afraid of getting a few scratches? Or do you know that it’s going to be…so much worse than that…?” Frank whispered, low enough that the Young Bloods couldn’t hear, but Pete could.

“You’re not here to train me…” Pete said just as quietly. He shot a pleading glance to Patrick, but he merely stood by Joe and watched, raising his eyebrows as he waited for them to get moving.

“Your friends offered me money to fight you, how could I pass that up? I don’t like you, you don’t like me. It’s really a win-win situation, Wentz,” Frank shrugged his shoulders. “I need to keep my family alive and safe, and it’s really only so long before the Punks gang up on me, or the Dandies attack. The rest of my family _must_ be alive in the long run  and if it means doing a few favors here and there, well, sign me up.

“So, now, you either fight me, or I threaten your family and take the money either way. I want to help you, Wentz. Trust me, I really do… But, only if you trust and want to help me, too. ” Frank said calmly.

“Help you? How can I help you?” Pete said, shifting on his feet, ready to duck out of the way.

“You owe me one. I don’t have to help you. A simple I.O.U will do,” Frank said nonchalantly. “And believe me, I will cash it in…” He added, quieter, the glint to his eyes returned.

Pete gulped, but nodded.

“Let’s fight.”

Pete slowly circled Frank, watching his movements, trying to calculate what he was going to do before he did it.

Frank darted forward, feinting right and then ducking down for Pete’s side. His shoulder collided with Pete’s hip, forcing him backward.

Pete jumped back, coughing slightly. He rubbed at the sore spot, staying light on his feet as he watched. His eyes scanned over Frank, watching the muscles in his body bunch up as he tensed before leaping forward once again.

While Pete was scanning the possibilities of the fight Frank was already five steps ahead of him. Being the more experienced fighter, he knew how the enemy would typically react. It was much easier to anticipate if they were new, which Pete was.

Frank ran forward, his teeth dropped and eyes thin. He looked feral.

Pete’s heart hammered in his chest, his eyes were wide. He ran his tongue over his, still blunt, teeth.

“Pete, you’re not going to win in a fight against a vampire if you don’t use your advantages as a vampire to your…advantage.” Frank told him, brushing the hair out of his eyes.

Pete nodded, his brow furrowing. He rolled his head to the side, cracking his neck. He closed his eyes and snapped his head back straight, a sharp, jerky movement. He opened his mouth as he roared, eyes wide and softly glowing a pale yellow. He hunched over, gaining more control over his movements, shifting from foot to foot, balancing and testing his weight.

He heard a soft hum from Frank, one of approval he could hope. He scanned his eyes over Frank’s movements, waiting, not wanting to make the first move.

Frank ran at him. Pete slid to the side, swinging his fist out, trying not to wince when it collided into the side of Frank’s jaw.

Frank slowed down, rubbing at his jaw. He moved his tongue in his mouth and spat out blood, a wide grin set on his face. He moved at Pete again, wasting no time. He got in close, through out some punches, and then leaned back on one foot, kicking out with the other.

Pete groaned as he was pushed back. A soft, high-pitched sound rung in his ears when he hit the ground, his lungs empty and gasping. He shook his head out, feeling his teeth prick his tongue, the taste of blood filling his mouth. He stood back up, watching Frank again.

“Stop thinking and just _act_!” Frank roared, his arms opened wide in an invitation.

Pete let some of his control go, trying not to think about what he was doing too much and just let basic instinct take over. He ran at Frank, stopping short and leaping, aiming for Frank’s shoulder, hoping to take him down.

Frank dodged to the side, his head snapping to the side as he watched Pete tumble down, hitting the ground hard.  

Pete coughed and leaned on his elbows, rubbing wearily at his face.

Frank sauntered over to him, a cheeky grin on his face.

“This is a fight, Peter, you don’t get to sit and wait to regain your breath.” Frank said, pushing him down roughly. “Worst comes to worst, you fight while you’re out of breath, until your lungs scream for you to back down, and either you obey or you rage on.” Frank said, kneeling down, placing one of his knees on Pete’s chest, pinning him down. “I want you to fight me until your lungs give out.”

Pete thrashed up against Frank’s knee, the weight placed upon him slowly increasing as Frank toyed with him.

“This isn’t a game of cat and mouse!” Pete said, adamantly. “You can’t pin and toy with me!”

“Oh, can’t I? In the real world you don’t have second chances, you get one. That’s it! You get one life, one chance, one opportunity to put your mark on the world. Fights like these are your opportunity to prove that you wants those chances! I can ‘pin and toy’ with you because your entire life is one big game of cat and mouse. You’re always chasing someone or something and someone else is always chasing you or something else. Don’t you get that?” Frank screamed, removing his knee and leaning over Pete.

Pete pushed up against Frank, his anger reaching its boiling point. He snarled sharply in Frank’s face.

Frank slammed him back down, pulled him back up, and repeated. Something changed in his demeanor. His gaze faded out, like he was looking, but not seeing.

Pete felt his head slam against the hard floor, heard a sickening crack, and felt a steady trickle of blood down his neck and around his shoulders.

“—nk! Frank! Frank, stop! Stop now!” Patrick shouted, his voice sounding distorted to Pete’s ringing ears.

His head knocked to the side, pain blossoming in his cheek and around his nose. The ugly taste of blood filled his mouth and he tried to spit it out, but ended up just coughing and choking on it as it filled his throat.

“Frank! Stop! You’re killing him!” Patrick cried out, frantic.

Pete blinked, his eyes clearing. He looked at Frank. He caught Frank’s eyes, which were wild and glazed over. He had lost all control.

Frank stopped berating him, slowly stood up and then turned to Patrick. He licked his teeth and stalked forward, movements slow and fluid. Predator versus prey.

Pete struggled to his feet, spitting out the blood that had filled his mouth and coated his lips. He looked past Frank and saw Patrick slowly moving back, joining Joe by the back wall, unfortunately rather far away from the door. He looked around for Andy, wishing for him to pop out of nowhere and save the day, but he was nowhere to be found.

He heard a slow, deep rattle and sourced it back to Frank. He matched Frank’s growl with a sharp snap of his jaws and a snarl.

Frank twitched slightly, but continued walking toward Patrick and Joe.

Pete moved forward, feeling a deep burning in his chest. He would not let them get hurt. In the short time he had known them they had become more like family than almost anything he had ever known.

He recognized this feeling in his chest as the same dark one he had felt when the vampires attacked him and Patrick.

He imagined the burning sensation in his chest as dark, shadowed ropes, wrapping around Frank to bring him under his control. He saw Frank falter in his movement and then stop all together. Pete walked Frank away from Patrick and Joe. He saw his hand begin to shake as he continued moving Frank. He vision momentarily went black and he lost his balance. He dropped to the side, but remained standing. He blamed it on his injuries and set his focus on Frank.

He released Frank from his control. A wave of relief washed over him. He lost his sight once again and stumbled backwards, trying to blink it away. He felt hands on his arms, steadying him. When the episode passed he found Patrick holding on to him. He coughed softly, tasting blood on his tongue, but not letting Patrick know.

“Frank?” He asked, his voice thick and raspy.

“Joe’s taking a look at him. Don’t know what made him lose control like that.” Patrick said, his voice shaking slightly.

Pete shook his head, he really didn’t know either. He walked backward, taking Patrick with him, and leaned against a wall, sliding down it. He sat down and closed his eyes, mentally assessing his injuries.

Patrick sat down next to him, hand lingering next to Pete’s. His fingers gently tapped over Pete’s palm, creating a beat.

“I—I thought he was going to kill you…” Patrick said softly, the tapping slowing to a standstill.

“ _I_ thought he was going to kill _you_.” Pete said. “A-And, uh, and I got so scared, because, uh, I care—” The words _I care about you_ died in his throat— “I can’t let you die, Joe would personally have me skinned.” Pete covered. He chuckled, trying to lighten the darkening mood, afraid he was the one bringing it down.

Pete waited a while for Patrick to respond, but was met with silence. He turned to the side to find Patrick, looking down at his hands, picking at a hangnail. He looked over the younger man’s face, his eyes carrying over and analyzing.

He looked far too tired, too young for a life like this.

Pete sighed.

Patrick turned to the side, to face Pete. The light caught his cheek and illuminated the blossoming bruise, spattered with purple, speckled with blue, and complimented with a dark ring of yellow.

Pete had to contain a gasp. He ran his hand over his knuckles, the fight springing back to mind. He slowly raised a hand to Patrick’s face, rubbing his thumb lightly over the bruise. He looked down into the man’s eyes, then down at his lips, tempted. He caught Patrick’s gaze again, found him doing the same. He began to lean in, his thumb rubbing a soft circle on Patrick’s neck.

Patrick froze. He moved back and away, staggering to his feet.   
“I—Sorry, I have to—I can’t—I have to go…” Patrick stammered out, turning around and running out of the room.

Pete sat there, leaning back against the wall, a sigh of defeat falling to deaf ears. He looked around the room and found that Joe and Frank had already left. He cursed himself for thinking Patrick would like him, would like anything about him.

 _You’re a monster…_ his subconscious reminded him.

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking this is going to end up being more around 50k... Thanks for sticking with me this far! Comments are appreciated, kudos are liked, and subscriptions/bookmarks are wonderful!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so im aware this is 80,000,000,000 years late but congrats to me on writing 40 pages of this thing!! *cue confetti* 
> 
> also i know this fic is like 90% fighting and will be for the next few chapters but there will be some domestic/fluffy stuff in a few chapters
> 
> so you'll probably be able to tell this is a filler chapter, but its also in William's pov which is p cool if i do say so myself
> 
> Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, mentions of blood, death, dubcon (its when someone is turned into a vampire, not sex, dont worry)

Chapter Three

**  
  
**

“Sir! Sir!” Spencer called out, as he ran down the hallways. He skidded to a halt, and looked around wildly. He took a moment, looking for the bond that the Dandy Clan carried. He sourced it back to William Beckett and took off down the hall.

He slowed down outside a door, knocking politely on it. He heard a conversation fall hushed from within the room and then a gentle “Come in” met his ears. He took one glance down the hall where his fellow Dandy and friend, Brendon, stood, arms crossed and foot tapping as he waited.

He opened the door and walked in, taking a moment to whisper a soft “Thank you” for being let in. He looked at the two men in William’s bedroom, Gabriel and William, the leaders of the clan.

Gabriel tilted his head and looked at him expectantly, his eyebrows raised. William took a kinder approach and smiled softly at him.

“I assume this has something to do with our most recent… addition?” William asked, glaring pointedly at Gabriel, who scowled and radiated waves of displeasure.

“Wentz was seen at a small café, run by four men: Frank Iero, Gerard Way, Michael Way, and Ray Toro.” Spencer said, rattling off the names he had spent a short while memorizing, even though Brendon told him William wouldn’t care. “There was a small altercation where the older Way brother called our hotline, alerted us about Wentz’s appearance.

“Unfortunately, they couldn’t manage to hold Wentz in the café and Iero was forced to hold him down. Brendon and Ryan were there, told Wentz that we have eyes across the country.” Spencer finished relaying the first half of his information.

“Yes, yes, I already know all this, Ryan stopped by earlier.” William said, taking a seat at his desk. He turned the chair around and crossed his legs, resting his head on his hand as he gestured for Spencer to continue.

“When you went to see them earlier, when Iero was there, right after you left…well, we’ve discovered Wentz’s weak spot.” Spencer said, smiling.

William shot a quick glance to Gabriel before returning it to Spencer.

“Well, you can’t just—” William began to speak, his words cut short.

“Wait, you went to their camp?” Gabriel asked, sounding shocked and offended.

“Yes, I had to,” William said, pursing his lips, “we figured out that Mr. Iero was going to be training our little Peter, and well, I just had to stop by.” William said, feigning innocence.

“What do you mean you ‘had to’?” Gabriel asked, leaning forward at William.

“Well, my sweet thing, we didn’t know what made Pete so special, and we had to find out. The Young Bloods already know what sets him apart, they’ve grown more confident.” William said, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.  

“‘Didn’t’? As if you know now?” Gabriel asked.

“Oh, but we do. We managed to strike gold on this one, Gabe. He and I are one and the same.” William rushed up from his seat, moving toward Gabriel, taking his hands in his. “Did a little control here and there, Frank was ever so kind in not putting up much a fight with me controlling him.” William said, moving away from Gabriel, dropping his hands with one small squeeze.

“Will, you’re not answering my question…” Gabriel said, rubbing his temple in confusion.

“He can do it, too.” William said, throwing his hands up into the air and giving Spencer a look like he couldn’t believe Gabriel hadn’t gotten it before.

“Control other vampires? How did you learn this?” Gabriel asked.

“Once a man finds a family he’ll hold on to it forever, now you try to take it away…well, bad things will happen.” William said, an air of wistfulness to his words. He shook his head. “Got Frank to go a little heavy on the punches, scared that leader of theirs half to death, then got him to turn on the rest of the Young Bloods.

“See, if you threaten our small Peter, he fights back, goes down swinging, but if you threaten his family, something snaps inside of him. Gives him that extra…oomphf to be the killer we need him to be. I’ve been told he killed several Punks the other day, went right for the throat when they threatened his Patty.” William said, his confidence growing more and more.

“If we can manage to get Pete on his own, train him to be one of us? We’d be unstoppable.” William said. “Spencer, go gather a few, assign each vamp’ a Young Blood, have them trail them for the next…let’s say, ‘week’.”

Spencer rushed out the door, hurried to comply to William’s orders.  

“Wait, Bilvy, if you had Frank under you control how did Pete stop him from attacking Patrick?” Gabriel said.

“He’s strong. Even stronger than me. Can you imagine how strong he would be with proper training? How much power we would hold? A dog gone rabid, trained and catered to our every command.” William walked slowly back to Gabriel.

Gabriel took William’s hands, bringing him in close. He smiled, eyes lowered.

“Bilv… Bilvy, don’t you worry that Peter will try and control yo—hmph!” William shushed him with a soft kiss.

“He may hold potential to be strong, but by the time he is that strong he will be ours to command.” He said, face close to Gabriel’s.

Gabriel smiled, pushed in for another kiss. They moved together, noses bumping and foreheads hitting. Somehow, even though they had been in a romantic relationship since the beginning of the Dandies, they still managed to be completely awkward and clumsy with things such as these.

Gabriel moved his hands down, letting William take control of the kiss.

William moved back a little, feeling Gabriel’s hands wander.

“Gabe, baby, you know I want to, but I have to focus on keeping the rest of the dandies together. They’ve been begging for a clan hunt for a while…” William said, finishing his sentence as he pressed soft kisses on Gabriel’s jawline. “You and I can lead it…” He said, lips moving to Gabe’s neck as he spoke.

Gabriel thought to the previous clan hunts, the way they all moved as one, taking down whoever and whatever they wanted, their blood lust through the roof, but also remaining in control. The clan hunt was the way they stayed in touch with each other, the way they were reminded that to exist as a clan they must all trust each other. They found that through hunting prey, seeking blood and finding it. They worked as a pack, taking turns nipping at the heels of their prey until they had hobbled them, until they were screaming for mercy, until they realized they were looking death in the eyes. Then… Then they feasted.

Gabriel nodded, pressing another kiss to William’s lips before moving away, taking his hand and leading him out into the hallway.

“You know they need a bit of a boost…” William said mischievously, he accompanied his words with a soft smirk, leading Gabriel down the hall. He brought his fingers to his mouth and whistled, high, quick, and sharp.

He walked into their main lounge, taking a stand at the front of the room while the rest of the Dandies scrambled to join him in the room. Gabriel stood to the side of the room, close to William, but still close to the rest of the clan.

The thing about William was he was always attempting to be intimidating, he kept his emotions in check. He wasn’t afraid to make sure that everyone in this clan was completely loyal, no inconsistencies, no flaws, no traitors.

They all respected him, so long as the feeling was mutual, and it was. William trusted his clan; they trusted him. William cared for his clan; they cared for him. William protected his clan; they protected him.

The relationship between the members of the Dandies was give and take, you need a favor then if someone asks something of you you must remember that they did something for you. It’s more respected than the barter system, more reliable than an I.O.U.

But, it wasn’t all perfect.

With William always trying to be intimidating, never letting that front slip for an instant, he often became cold, distant, feared. The Dandies loved William and would never dream of telling him that he didn’t need to threaten them if they took an extra second to do something, would never tell him that he didn’t constantly need his fangs dropped.

See, William wasn’t always leader. There was someone before him, there was her. And she was a different kind of leader, she was a ruler, a queen, fit, born, bred for the throne and she claimed it like it was her home.

The clan never stepped out of line, because if you did you didn’t live to see the next sunrise. She was cold, heartless, ruthless, the ship she ran was tight, it worked well. Well, until the clan started plotting behind her.

The day she was run out is a day that William will never, ever forget. It is forever seared into his memory. Sometimes, he has nightmares about it. He was thinking about it then, while he stood up at the front of the room, the day Gabriel was taken from him and the entire clan fell apart.

_Hushed whispers behind the backs of the clan members was constant in the Dandy base. There was always someone talking about someone, but more recently everyone seemed to be talking about Ashley._

_Her name was spoken kindly, with underlying tones of wrongwrongwrongstopstop hidden beneath it. To the world she was a ruthless killer, born and raised in the confines of a rich home. She was turned at a young age, never truly knew what it was like to be human, never knew what it felt to have human emotions, or any emotions at all. In the eyes of the world she was a sociopath, and if you crossed her then you wouldn’t last more than a day._

_But, to her clan, the Dandies, she was like a mother to them. A cold, seemingly heartless, cruel mother, but a mother nonetheless. To most of them, she was the only mother they had ever known, and she made sure they remembered that._

_She would screech at how she rescued them, gave them a better life, saved some of them, made sure they didn’t die on the streets. The clan would nod, say their thanks to her, and fix whatever they did wrong. They always did something wrong. It was impossible for them to do something right._

_Sometimes, Ashley would back off a little. She would take them out on a hunt, she would tell them that she didn’t mean any of it, that she loved them, cared about them, they didn’t have to worry. They did._

_For some, she would end up being their worst enemy, for others she would remain their idol. Because eventually, they grew tired. Most of them knew a different life, one where they weren’t constantly berated for breathing in the wrong air, for standing in the wrong place, for giving someone the wrong look. Most of them knew this wasn’t right. So, they set out to fix it. That’s what they did; they fixed._

_Months passed, passed in silence, at least that’s what Ashley thought. She maintained her image, kept the fear in the eyes of the citizens of Chicago. They knew her as Halsey, a name spoken with an air of admiration and horror all at once. Only those in her clan, those “close” to her knew her as Ashley._

_She trusted her clan, just like she assumed they trusted her. She was wrong._

_William, ranking low in the clan, the omega of the pack, slowly began working his way into the minds of the other members. He began feeding them the line, slowly getting them to work the bit, to trust him._

_Their allegiance began to switch. Ashley could feel the bond between them all slowly beginning to crumble. She worked harder to keep them all together. More hunts, more feeding, more training sessions, all of the little things that would typically bond them closer to Ashley only brought them closer to William._

_Passing each other in the hallways, Ashley and William would stare, glare, bare their teeth, and flash their eyes. But it was never anything more than that. They couldn’t fight each other because they both knew they were equal right now. They both had a plan to change that._

_Weeks and months passed, time spent silently plotting. But, it wasn’t just William with a plan._

_Ashley still had several loyal members, still had a large gathering to command. They followed her every word, never questioning it._

_William’s followers were strong, strong enough to leave someone they had worshiped for years. William couldn’t blame those who had remained loyal to Ashley, it wouldn't be fair. He knew that if he didn’t have the support he did then he would still be the omega, the bitch of the clan, spat on, a disgrace. Sometimes, he wondered if it was his time as the omega that helped him learn the feeling of rebellion, the feeling of betrayal._

_The Dandies had split up, still seen as one group from those not in their clan, but in reality they had taken over two different camps. One Williams, the other was Ashleys. William spent his time training the Dandies, getting them to trust one another again. Ashley spent her time setting up defenses, gaining alliances with other clans. There was a war coming and neither side could guess the outcome._

_It was winter when both sides could sense it was the day._

_Snow layered the ground, a bitter, sharpness hung in the air._

_Ashley sent a messenger to William’s side. She ran into William’s camp, her mouth open with the cry of “Blood will be spilled tonight!” before running back out. William’s Dandies chased after her, already prepped for war. Like hounds on a fox they hunted._

_William took a moment waiting in the camp, his thoughts traveled to someone he had tried to hard to keep out of his life: Gabriel. They had met years ago, when William was low in the ranks, when he was scared of eye contact. Gabe showed him that that feeling in his chest, the feeling of rebellion, was something he needed to use to save the Dandies, save Chicago, from Halsey._

_It was only two years ago when they found a shared connection, one on a deeper, more romantic, level._

_They had talked about it, about turning Gabe so they could be together forever, but it wasn’t something he had wanted to do, not yet._

_William couldn’t help but wonder what Gabe was doing, what he was thinking about, how he was feeling. William was walking into a battlefield and Gabe was likely at home, reading a book or listening to music._

_William found himself ripped out of his thoughts by a scream coming from the fight. His family needed him, he let his fangs drop, let his anger fuel the fight. He lept into the fight, helping out a few of his clanmates._

_Brendon, one of his more loyal followers, yelps as he is pinned down._

_William leapt at the vampire atop Brendon. He tackled the vampire, pinning him down and biting at his neck. Blood fills his mouth, dripping down his chin._

_During this fight, he’s found his mind is wandering more than ever. And during that particular moment, he found himself thinking about how only some vampires, when turned, have claws. He glanced at Brendon, who does._

_“Use your claws when you’re pinned.” He advises, Brendon nods and runs off._

_A million different thoughts were running through his head, he was siphoning through the different scents, emotions, and sounds before him. It was the last one that caught his attention._

_He ripped through a vampire’s neck, leaving them gasping as they bled out. It was common knowledge that to kill a vampire you had to drive a stake through their heart, but ripping out their throat or removing a vital organ proved useful as well._

_He was moving onto the next vampire when he heard her._

_“William…” Ashley called out, low, quiet, taunting._

_He shoved the vampire down, looking over the heads of the fighting clans. Ashley stood, peacefully, amongst the crimson snow. He heard a small gasp and saw that she was holding someone, they were on their knees, struggling against her grasp._

_“You have impeccable taste, he’s quite a looker…” She added, her lips split wide in a grin. One vampire stood on either side of her._

_“No!” William cried, rushing toward them. He felt hands on his arms, holding him back, restraining him. He thrashed against them. He turned to look at them, finding one of them snap at him. He jerked back, kicking out. Gabe needed him._

_“William!” Gabe shouted, fear cracking through his voice._

_Ashley brought her hand down to his neck, fingers dancing over his throat, claws dragging slowly across. Suddenly, her grip tightened._

_Gabe let out a strangled gasp, blood slowly trickled down his neck._

_“Gabriel!” William pushed forward. “Let him go!” He shouted, glaring at Ashley. She clicked her tongue disapprovingly._

_“You want me to let him go?” Ashley asked, cocking her head. “He’s yours, y’know…?”_

_William’s heart begged him to say yes, but his brain held his tongue. It couldn’t be this easy. He turned to look at the vampires beside him, holding him back. He opened his mouth, his answer in his throat._

_Ashley tutted softly, stepping back from Gabe._

_“Oh darn, I should’ve told you to listen to my heartbeat.” She said, smirking._

_William tuned his ears to her heart, knowing he missed something._

_Bump-bump. Bump-bump. Bump-bump.“Gabriel will survive the night.” Bump-bu—bump._

_A tick. A tell. A lie._

_Ashley gripped her fingers around Gabe’s hair, yanking him to his feet._

_“Oh, you know how I do love the thrill of the chase.” She paused, raising her mouth to Gabe’s ear as she whispered, “Run”._

_Gabe tore himself out of her grip, skipped a few feet back, and looked back over his shoulder to glance at William who fought against the vampire’s holding him. Mouth open wide in a shout, teeth snapping, eyes wild and worried. Gabe lowered his head and ran the opposite direction._

_Snow landed delicately amongst his hair as he ran; breath visible, labored._

_William couldn’t figure out what angle Ashley was playing at._

_The battled raged behind._

_The vampire’s kicked out William’s legs, forcing him to his knees. They stepped to the side, letting him go._

_William sat there for a moment, leaving his arms open for Ashley to come and get him, so long as Gabe was okay. He closed his eyes._

_“Sic’em boys.”_

_William braced himself for the attack, but nothing came. He opened his eyes. The two vampires that were once by Ashley’s side had taken off, shifted, hungry for blood. Gabriel’s blood._

_He choked out a soft “no” before taking after them. His typical Dandy clothing was wearing him down, catching in the wind. He tried shrugging his coat off, managing to get one sleeve off, exposing himself to the cold. He very, very briefly considered taking it off, staying in just his button up, suspenders, and pants, but the better part of his judgement knew there would be wounds to clot..._

_The vampires were out of his sight by now, but he could smell their adrenalin, could see their footprints, could hear their howls of joy as they chased his love._

_The alleyways echoed his breathing, his footsteps. The snow slowed him down, lost most traction the regular ground possessed. He silently cursed it. His curses fell upon deaf ears and soon cut short when he noticed the white was now tainted with red. He knelt down, dragging his fingers across the bloodied snow, sniffing it and then bringing it to his mouth._

_“Gabe…”_

_He darted up and sprinted down the path faster than ever._

_The blood was no longer as distanced out as it was before, now it was a steady trail._

_William turned the corner, finding it a dead end. He heard a racket and looked up to find Gabe climbing a ladder to the top of a roof. He kicked out at the vamp’ chasing him. The vampire tumbled to the ground, snarling and hissing, before crawling back up the ladder with newfound confidence and anger._

_The other vampire was clawing at Gabe’s ankles, dragging him down a rung before attacking again._

_William shouted, fear filling his voice. He saw Gabe turn around, look at him with fear-filled eyes before continuing up the ladder on shaky limbs. William followed him, vaulting up the ladder. He stood up on the roof. The two vampires turned their heads to look at William before turning back and cornering Gabe toward the edge of the roof._

_Gabe’s arms swung around as he teetered toward the edge. The vampire’s howled and bayed, snapping and clawing at him. One of them grabbed his coat, pulling him toward them. The other kicked out his legs, pulling him down._

_William launched himself forward, roaring._

_One of the vampire’s, not as strong as the other, jumped behind Gabe, using him like a shield. He placed his claws against Gabe’s neck, digging in. The other turned to William, opening his arms and prompted a fight._

_William twisted his neck, cracking it, and then leaned down, snapping his teeth and roaring._

_“I don’t want to have to fight a Dandy.” William said, defeatedly. “Not my own.”_

_“You’re not a Dandy.” The vampire said, spitting in his face._

_William took a good look at the vampires before him. They were ones he had seen around the camp a few times but were more loyal to Ashley than anything, they tried to stay away from him most often._

_“Wait, you’re Evans,” William commented. It was worse knowing who you were fighting, with a name was a story, and with a story was memories. William didn’t want to kill these vampires, but he knew it would likely come to it. “And you’re—” William felt hand push on his chest, knocking him off balance and onto his back. He was hoping if he could manage to stall for long enough he would come up with a plan that didn’t end with everyone dying._

_The vampire leapt onto him, throwing punches, scratching at his neck, snapping at him with his teeth._

_William tried to push him off. He knew he had a secret he could use, one that only he knew. Well, he and one other vampire, but she was dead. If his secret got out, not only would he die, but everyone he loved. He knew that if he was controlling another vampire, specifically Evans, then Mark would attack him. If he lost his concentration on his control, he would lose his grip, and after using his special “power” he was always weakened. If he tried to use it, it would fail for certain and then both he and Gabe would die._

_He brought his knees up to his chest, attempting to worm his way out from beneath Evans, who merely smirked at him. Evans threw more punches at him, his head knocked to the side, blood dripping out of cuts along his face. He knew he would heal soon enough, but it still hurt._

_“Evans!” Gabe cried out, earning a harsh slap._

_Evans looked to the side, momentarily distracted. William took this opportunity to shove Evans off of him. With the upper hand, he pinned Evans against the ground, digging his teeth into his throat. Evans’ scream turned into a choking gargle when William tore his throat out with his teeth._

_Blood dripped from William’s mouth. Gabe looked horrified. William shot him an apologetic look, praying that he managed to get Gabe out of here safe. In this moment of shock and quiet William surveyed Gabe’s wounds, cataloging which ones he would need to attend to first and if any of them required a hospital. As much as he hated the overwhelming smell of antiseptic, if Gabe needed help he would do his damndest to get him to it, and right now he was trying._

_“Y-you killed Evans…” Mark said quietly like he couldn’t believe it._

_William nodded sharply. He spoke, voice low, a growl. “You’re next.”_

_Mark looked down to where he held his hand, his claws pressed against Gabe’s throat, then back up to William. His eyes were wide, fear filling them. His heart was beating in his throat. He was terrified. He knew he was going to die._

_Silence._

_Mark’s arm jerked to the side, his claws tearing through flesh._

_Gabriel’s eyes went wide._

_William froze._

_Mark darted away._

_Gabe fell to the side, not able to catch himself as his hands clutched at his throat. His hands slipped against his throat, too much blood for him to get a good grip._

_William felt a surge and anger and sorrow flood his veins. The animosity broke past the anguish and he raised a hand, forcing Mark to stop moving, controlling him. He walked Mark toward the edge of the building, he smiled at him before walking him off of it, releasing him as he stepped off, wanting him to feel the terror and pain._

_He broke out of his trance, wobbled on his feet, and ran to Gabe’s side._

_Gabe smirked at him, blood coating the inside of his lips as he coughed._

_Blood speckled William’s face._

_“No, no, no, you’re okay, you’re okay,” William repeated, like if he said it enough it would come true._

_Gabe shook his head. “I’m not. It’s okay.” Gabe said, his voice firm, heart steady._

_William’s eyes went wide. He tore off his jacket, wrapping the sleeve around the wound. As much as he could do to stop the blood, it wouldn’t stop it from filling his throat, choking him to death. He was only prolonging the pain._

_“It’s okay. Let me—” He broke off to cough, blood flying from his mouth. “Let me go, Bilv.”_

_“No, I can’t let you go, I love you, I can’t—I won’t—You can’t—Just don’t leave me, baby, I need you, Gabe, please,” William begged, tears falling from his eyes. He wiped the blood from Gabe’s lips, ignoring his labored breathing, ignoring the ragged gasps of pain._

_“I love you, but—” He broke into another coughing fit, “Just go, go back to the Dandies, the fight isn’t over, you need to be there. Leave me.”_

_“You know I can’t do that.” William was growing short. He knew that Gabe didn’t have much longer._

_“Just get out of here! Let me have this! I need to know that you didn’t let any of your clanmates die because of me.” Gabe shouted, though it was more like a hoarse whisper, strained and in pain._

_“They can handle themselves! I’m here for you.” William objected._

_“If you want to help me, then you need to leave!” Gabriel said. His face had gone pale, skin cold to touch, sweat formed along the hairline._

_“Oh, bite me! You can’t make me leave! You can’t make me leave you! Okay? I can’t, I can’t—Oh.” William stopped talking, his mind working faster than it should be. “Bite me, bite me, Gabriel, I can turn you. I can turn you and I can save you.” He let the sentence hang in the air, an offer._

_“Yes, turn me,” Gabe said, suddenly hopeful. His eyes looked almost glazed over. William wondered if he could take Gabe’s word, he hardly seemed conscious. He growled and took Gabe’s arm. William hated to cause Gabe any pain, but if it would save his life he would do it a thousand times. He dropped his fangs and dug them into Gabe’s arm, who yelped and squirmed. He then bit his wrist, bringing it to Gabe’s mouth._

_“Drink.” He ordered. Gabe coughed and tried to swallow some of the blood. William wasn’t sure how quickly the bite took effect, but it appeared that the blood flow was slowing and the skin around Gabe’s neck was slowly forming, healing._

_After half-an-hour Gabe passed out, whether it was from the pain, exhaustion, or lack of blood, William wasn’t sure. But, he stayed with him, cradling him in his arms. He wrapped him up in his jacket and excess clothing. The snowfall had slowed to nil, but the bitter bite of cold still remained._

_Two hours, three hours, four hours passed. Somewhere around the three hour mark William fell asleep, mind protesting, but body insisting. He woke up some time later. Night had fallen, the moon high in the sky._

_Gabe moved in his slumber, high-pitched whines escaping his throat._

_William cast a look to where the wound was, finding it had completely healed. On the outside it looked like it once did, whole, but he couldn’t be so sure for on the inside. It may look fine and dandy, but looks can be deceiving. He decided not to push it, to let Gabe heal and be safe, in his arms._

_Gabe stopped moving, eyes fluttering as he fell back into a peaceful time of rest and healing._

_William moved back a little, readjusting his position against the ledge atop the building. It was rather disturbing considering the large pool of blood and body only a few feet away. He considered getting up and moving the body, perhaps bringing Gabe to the other side of the building. He decided against it when he realized that he would risk Gabe becoming even colder._

_In the past few hours, snow had begun to fall much faster than before. There was now a thin layer across the rooftop, but around Gabe and William the snow had melted._

_Vampires already ran colder than usual, so William wasn’t offering much heat to Gabe, who was shaking softly, wrapped up in the multiple layers of clothing._

_William wished that Gabe would turn faster. He played over the previous days events, thinking about what he could’ve done differently, what wouldn’t have led to where they were right now. Maybe he could have saved Gabe earlier, maybe he wouldn’t have nearly died. Maybe he could have turned himself in, an exchange. He knows that his Dandies would make it without him, but then perhaps Gabe would carry the guilt of that for the rest of his life._

_He hears a loud shout from below. There’s too much blood for him to catch a scent. He’s defenseless and he hears more voices add to the shout. They appear to be fighting over something, but it’s keeping him from recognizing who it is. He tenses up._

_The ladder rattled._

_He holds his breath, clutching Gabe tighter. He figures maybe he can pretend he’s dead. His heartbeat was much slower than a humans, so if a human found him he could blend in with Evans’ body and Gabe’s incredibly still one._

_He knew he would never get over this day, he knew he would always go over it in his head, would always have nightmares about the day that Gabe bled out in his hands. He could feel his throat tightening so he shifted his focus to the people crawling up the ladder._

_He hands tighten into fists as the first person nears the top. They’re chatting lightly, quietly. His lips draw back in a snarl, they won’t get him, or Gabe._

_He sees a dark-skinned man step up onto the roof, signaling with his hand for the others to stay on the ladder, to wait._

_“You Beckett?” The man asks, slowly, cautiously approaching._

_William nods sharply, lips pressed into a thin line._

_“My name’s Travis, but, uh, call me Travie…” Travie looks over the scene, nose wrinkling in disgust. He wears dark eyeliner, a ripped vest, and tan colored cargo pants, spatters of blood rested on his leg and edge of his pants._

_William nodded again, shrinking back, pulling Gabe in closer, when Travie reached out to him. William didn’t know Travie, couldn’t trust him._

_“I know I’m not a Dandy, I-I’m a Punk, but—but, I heard you fighting, I saw that guy jump. I heard that one”—he nods at Gabe— “call you William, and then you called him Gabe, so I knew it must be a Dandy.” He takes a step back. “I knew you wouldn’t trust me, so I found someone I knew you would.”_

_The other people begin climbing up the ladder._

_A man steps up over the ledge, the grin on his face faltering when he takes a quick glance over the wreckage, but he fixes it in a second, not allowing William to see his fear._

_“Bren…” William whispers, his lips quirking up in a smile. He lets his head fall back against the ledge in relief, he relaxes, stretching out his muscles from tensing up._

_Brendon runs over, avoiding Evans’ body. He grabs William’s shoulder, gripping it tightly. He breathes a sigh a relief once he sees that William is okay. He opens his mouth, closes it, and then inhales through his nose sharply._

_“W-wait, Gabriel’s scent… It’s changed,” he commented. “William, what happened?” Brendon asked._

_William spent the next few minutes recounting what had occurred._

_Brendon nodded, visibly shaken. “We need to get Gabe home.”_

_William copied his nod, clambering to his feet. He swayed to the side, weakened and put off-balance by Gabe’s limp form._

_Michael, a Dandy, walked over and took Gabe from him. William nodded his thanks, walking after him, making sure to keep in contact with Gabe at all times._

_“Halsey is out of Chicago.” Brendon said after they had walked in silence for a while._

_“Oh?” William prompted, both amazed and concerned._

_“She lost too many,” Brendon’s voice was heavy._

_William could tell that it was hard for all of his Dandies to fight who they once considered family. He wondered when he started thinking of the Dandies as his._

_“She’ll be back,” the younger Dandy said, mood dampening._

_“Then we’ll be ready.”_

_Brendon nodded, smiling, as he knocked his shoulders against William’s, leering up at him._

_William glanced down, face flat. When he saw the grin on Brendon’s face, he found himself laughing in hysterics. It was likely the shock, the delirium, but he hadn’t felt this light, this happy, this at ease in a long time._

“Bilv,” Gabe said from across the room.

William snapped out of his thoughts, the memories bringing back bad feelings. He cast a glance toward Gabe, longing. He almost felt lost.

Gabe walked toward him, pushing through the throng of people. He stood beside William, wrapping his fingers around his lover's. He squeezed his hand tightly, a quick sign of reassurance.

William relaxed a little, he turned to his side, stealing a quick look at Gabe’s neck, just needing to know that he was okay. He sighed, feeling much better. He turned to face his Dandies. He coughed softly to gain their attention.

“Recently, I was told that Halsey will be back.” He waited for the news to sink in. “I’ve known for a while she would be back, you’ve all known.” He paused, rubbing his thumb over Gabe’s hand. “We’ve defeated her once before, we can do it again!” He took a step forward, letting go of Gabriel’s hand. A roar erupted from the crowd. “We’ll train more, grow stronger, stronger than ever before.

“Most of you know, that I recently took on a new investment. It’s going to be tough to get him on our side, but know that soon enough we will have double the power. Halsey will quiver at the very mention of the Dandies.

“It won’t be long before we get Wentz with us. It may take a while to train him, get him used to our ways. He won’t like it. But we need him. I want each of you to find a partner to spar with for the next few weeks, then trade off. We need to be ready. We will be ready.” William finished and took a step back. He joined Gabe by the back of the room, waiting for the crowd to settle.

Gabe stepped forward, glancing over the faces of the Dandies. "It's been awhile since our last hunt, but tonight we will bond stronger and feast. You know the limits, don't kill more than you need to. William and I are leading." Gabe stepped back, lips curled into a smirk.

**“Let’s hunt.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed! all mistakes are my own. sorry this is so late the next chapter probably wont be up too soon (im thinking like two/three weeks)

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this, there will be more chapters after this, not sure how many, but I'm guessing the end word count will be at around 20k.


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